


All the King's Horses

by jeeps



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-17
Updated: 2003-12-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:36:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeps/pseuds/jeeps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Heavily based on <a href="http://www.theonering.net/scrapbook/view/3286">this photograph</a> (and caption) of Orlando, taken by Viggo, and <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/glitterdemon/217470.html#cutid1">this snippet</a> from an article on Viggo in <i>Premiere Magazine</i>. Title and lyrics from Aimee Mann's <i>Humpty Dumpty</i>. Beta by <a href="http://p_crocodile.livejournal.com">p_crocodile</a>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	All the King's Horses

**Author's Note:**

> Heavily based on [this photograph](http://www.theonering.net/scrapbook/view/3286) (and caption) of Orlando, taken by Viggo, and [this snippet](http://www.livejournal.com/users/glitterdemon/217470.html#cutid1) from an article on Viggo in _Premiere Magazine_. Title and lyrics from Aimee Mann's _Humpty Dumpty_. Beta by [p_crocodile](http://p_crocodile.livejournal.com).

_and all the king's men  
couldn't put baby together again_

The words don't match the image.

The elegant scrawl slanted across the bottom teases him with a wry smirk, ruffling his sleek blond wig into anti-hero disarray (_"Oh, go manicure your nails," Viggo mutters, trying to keep the sparkle out of his eyes_).

The image spies on him, quietly invades the space where mundane task leaves thoughts floating gently on the surface. It trails a finger over delicate features and presses its face into his neck, and there are no words, or a thousand.

The words hide what the picture seeks, and Orlando cannot reconcile the two.

*

From the beginning it was subterfuge, grown-ups playing hide and seek, but Viggo got under Orlando's skin with the rest of it. Viggo would push into him, and his mouth would linger too long on his own for Orlando not to learn the texture, shards of broken ice. He would probe the dangerous edges with his tongue, hoping they could be melted. But it wasn't his sacrifice to make, and so he was left with only the taste of blood in his mouth. Orlando swallowed it down as he came.

Afterwards, before the sweat cooled on his skin, Orlando would roll over onto his stomach and dig a hand into Viggo's bedside drawer. Viggo was used to Orlando's insatiable curiosity by then, but if it had formed into habit, him pawing through this one spot, Viggo still hadn't seemed inclined to stop him. Orlando would emerge with a stack of lined notebook paper, restaurant napkins, and even — Jesus — _parchment_, like Viggo had been raiding set props. Viggo would lay his hands down flat on the covers, breathing softly beside him, and Orlando read.

Or, he tried to. Eventually, though, his fingers would just trace over the lettering like Braille, and he'd know it was time to leave.

*

Viggo's probably still a little in love with Exene, but that's not very surprising to Orlando, who is fully aware of the idealism he places on love. He's considered that maybe he should be a bit more cynical, but has decided that's not really him.

She would visit the Rings set every couple of months, because Viggo couldn't stand to be away from Henry for too long. They always tended to show up right in the middle of filming, causing as much disruption as Peter would allow. That seemed to be Exene's way. She took delight in it, took delight in Viggo, her punk-dyed hair a shock of color against the woods surrounding them. She never stayed long.

The look in Viggo's eyes upon Henry is joy, and Orlando coveted him, sneaking the boy off to climb trees in the woods and returning him muddy and sated with the New Zealand air. He shares Viggo's eyes that read like poetry, Exene's smile and restless spirit. Henry is in the leaves crackling under Viggo's boots, he is in the bright smear of lipstick on Viggo's mouth, and he is in Orlando's regret that his lips leave no marking.

They are souls so kindred that they have to scratch and bruise each other to untwine and understand. It's not something that Orlando should envy, but Exene has Viggo's skin and blood under her nails.

*

He thinks he must have lost part of his soul to Legolas during those fifteen months, because standing under the moonlight in the frosted scent of the trees feels like coming home. He wants to go running, the same mad dash of communion as when he found out he was to be an elf prince. Instead he stands with the water pooling around his feet and tilts his face up to the trees and imagines he can see the resonation of their song swirling through his crystallized breath.

He doesn't realize that Viggo has moved to his side until he barks out a howl. The song dissipates into another, mournful and ephemeral, that scratches at Orlando's throat.

The sound ends on a rasp of breath and then Viggo looks at him, eyes searching him curiously like the ghosts of his howl have settled over Orlando. "You're mad," he says roughly.

The moonlight catches Viggo's smile like a glint off the edge of a knife.

They both turn their heads toward the sound of a loud splash, raucous laughter, and what must be Liv's indignant screech coming through the trees crowded up to the edge of the bank. Realizing how far they've wandered from their party, Orlando takes a hesitant step in their direction, but Viggo grabs his forearm and murmurs, "Let's go in."

"Fuck off!" Orlando laughs and shakes off his hand. "Do you have any idea how cold it is?"

"Yup," Viggo replies, still smiling, but the edge is gone now.

Orlando hesitates. "Well, that's reassuring." Viggo just raises an eyebrow.

"You said you wanted to see the moon. We'll get a better view of it from the water."

And Orlando's never been able to turn down a challenge, so finds himself waist-deep, clutching at the back of Viggo's shirt as he attempts to navigate stones with numbed feet. The journey is relentless, chilled current tugging the heat from his skin, and Viggo keeps up a running commentary of words, words, words that Orlando doesn't understand, just knows make him want to curl into the warm purr of his voice. Viggo finally stops and turns around, and Orlando doesn't let go, just wraps his other arm around Viggo's body to clasp his hands together against his back.

"Bloody stupid artists," Orlando chatters against his collarbone. Viggo's laugh dislodges his head, and he tilts it up to the sky to join Viggo's gaze.

"It's beautiful. You and Henry made quite a find."

Orlando shakes his head. "It was there for anyone to find. I've done nothing special, have I?"

Viggo lowers his chin, looks at him. It's steady, but Orlando knows too much about human expressions not to gather that he's startled him. "I suppose, if you see it that way."

Viggo's hand is bitterly cold against his cheek, but his mouth swallows the ghosts on Orlando's sudden exhalation, coaxes them out with the curl of his tongue. It's been so long since they've done this, and goosebumps prickle all over Orlando's skin at the contrast to the cold the kiss burns down the center of him.

There's another, more distant burst of laughter. Orlando breaks away in surprise and, looking over his shoulder, realizes they can see the group from here. Two of the crewmembers are attempting to throw Henry in the river, Liv egging them on in high-spirited vengeance. Ian, sitting on a hill behind them, is almost on his back with laughter. Henry is attempting some half-hearted struggles but appears resigned to his fate.

Viggo isn't looking at them. His eyes are unreadable, focused on Orlando.

"Why did you let me come all the way out here? It's freezing."

Orlando just gives him an incredulous snort. He leads them back to shore this time, Viggo's arms around him for balance and the same litany of words etching themselves onto Orlando's ear.

He thinks he may be starting to understand them.


End file.
